Emily exhaled in relief from the other end of the line, but in it, I could still hear her concern. “Are you sure? I know it can’t be easy for you.”
I released a blustery sigh of indifference. “We host weddings here all the time. How could I refuse my best friend?”
By being sane and reasonable, that was how. But I guessed I wasn’t either of those things.
I was a glutton.
A masochist.
Begging for the heartache.
Emily started to ramble, “You don’t know what this means to me, Vi. I wanted to get married in my hometown, and there isn’t a more gorgeous setting than Wallflowers. I mean, I tried to find someplace else, but it was clear they couldn’t pull it together on such short notice. Besides, nothing else compares to Wallflowers. Not even close. It’s going to be perfection,” she gushed. “The first time I saw it, I fell in love. I can’t imagine a better place to confess my love and my forever than under that tree.”
Cut. Cut. Cut.
I didn’t think she had the first clue that she was slaying me.
“It’ll be perfect. We’ll make sure of it,” I promised.
“Are you sure we can pull it together? I know three weeks is short notice, and I’m sorry for that. But under the circumstances…” she trailed off.
“We can make it work. I promise.”
Even from the distance, I could feel the gratefulness in her demeanor. “You are truly the best. I…” She hesitated, then murmured again, “I know how hard this has to be for you. I’m asking so much, and I know I don’t have the right.”
“Don’t say that. You do have the right. I love you like a sister.”
I guessed the hardest part of it was that I’d lost both my sisters at the same time. Not that Emily hadn’t tried to keep in touch. That she hadn’t reached out. But there’d been too much strain at that time. Too much pain.
Everything was raw and aching. The wounds fresh and ripe.
With the way thinkin’ about Richard felt right then, I wondered just how well those wounds had healed.
“I love you, too. Forever. Nothing can change that,” she said.
Emotion warbled through the silence that hung in the air, and finally, I cleared my throat, pasted on a smile, and prayed she could sense it from across the miles. “Okay, so I think we’d better plan a meeting. Tomorrow or Thursday? If we’re going to pull this off, we’re going to have to work fast. Do you have a caterer in mind?”
She giggled. “Oh, I have all kinds of things in mind.”
My smile turned genuine.
Because this was what I was born to do.
To watch beauty blossom.
To foster and cultivate it.
And a wedding was the ultimate harvest.
“All right then. Let’s do this.”Two days later, I was out in my workshop pruning flowers for a bouquet.
Watching the clock, not sure if I wanted time to speed away or to stand still. If it was the anticipation that was wrecking me or the actual meeting that might kill me dead.
My office and workspace sat at the bottom of the hill from the house, the acres of flowers growing out from behind the old structure that I’d restored.
It had been a broken-down barn that had been turned into a rustic haven where I let my fingers go to work. Where I pruned and pieced and fashioned someone’s sentiment into an expression.
Love.
Sympathy.
Mourning.
Congratulations and well wishes.
The truth was every flower had a story to tell. A wish to impart.
I found so much joy in being a part of it that I almost got lost in my work until the sound of tires crunching on the driveway and the low hum of an engine dragged me from the peace.
Heart lurching, I pulled the gloves from my hands, set them on the workbench, and took a couple steeling breaths before I gathered up my unwieldy emotions, bottled them for later, and slipped out the double wooden doors.
A black Suburban came to a stop in front of the house.
Squinting against the rays of the late afternoon sun, I peered into the distance at the people who climbed out of the extra-long SUV, trying to ignore the raging beat of my heart.
Telling myself it didn’t matter.
That I could handle this, no matter who showed.
I was a big girl and I’d long since moved on.
Right?
Right.
I almost gave myself a little pat on the back for bein’ so mature.
From the front passenger seat, Emily hopped out first.
Goodness, the excitement that blazed from her, so much that it was tweaking a grin at the corner of my mouth.
Melanie climbed out from the rear-passenger behind her, and I felt a buzz of my own excitement after not seeing her for so long.
But it was who followed her out that sent my lurching heart leaping in a shout of joy.